


A Proper Pirate's Den

by MsBarrows



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dress Up, Fluff, Gen, Girls' Night Out, Hiding, Prompt Fill, Pursuit, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBarrows/pseuds/MsBarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted in my "In The Maker's Light" ficlet collection, this is a pair of prompt fills about Bethany, Isabela and Merrill having a girl's night out that ends with an unplanned sleepover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidental Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnandtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/gifts), [stealyourshiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/gifts).



Bethany sighed, and put aside the shirt she’d been mending. It was getting too dark to work, but wasn’t yet dark enough to justify lighting a candle. She thought of going out to the main room, but by the sounds of it mother and Uncle Gamlen were having another one of their arguments; their voices not raised, but tense and cold as they sniped back and forth at each other. She hated that; hated being anywhere near them when they got like that. Hard to believe they’d once been a brother and sister who loved each other, as she loved Garrett, and had loved Carver.

If only Garrett were back! Back, and with money, at least enough that they could find a place of their own rather than having to live on Uncle Gamlen’s charity. Not that there was very much of that; all _he_ gave them was a roof over their heads. It was the work Leandra and Bethany did, mending and cleaning and making household simples, that put food in the pot. That and the carefully hoarded handful of coins that Garrett had given mother before leaving for the Deep Roads with Varric, taking his friends Fenris and Anders with him.

Bethany sighed again, feeling lonely, and remembering fondly the times that she’d joined her brother and his friends at the Hanged Men, sitting around and talking for hours in Varric’s suite over cards and drinks. Not that either she or Garret had drank much, both of them preferring to nurse a drink all evening, the few coins it saved them going toward the money they needed to join Varric’s expedition. The expedition _she_ was supposed to have gone along on as well, only mother made a fuss at the last minute and Garrett decided to take his apostate friend along in her place. Damn him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door to her room. “Bethany? There’s someone here to see you, dear,” Leandra called, a note of disapproval in her voice.

“I’ll be right there, mother,” she called back, and only as she rose to her feet realized how dark the room had become, the last light of day having faded from the window high overhead. She quickly ran a comb through her hair, and shook the wrinkles from her skirt, then went out to the main room. And stopped, smiling.

Isabela stood a few paces inside the door, ignoring the way Gamlen was leering at her. Her tight white tunic glowed in the dim light of the cooking fire, her gold jewellery and dark eyes glinting equally bright. “Bethany! I promised Hawke I’d look in on you while he was gone, and make sure you were all right. Past time I kept my promise, I thought. Would you like to come for a walk with me? I promised him I’d look in on Merrill as well, and I know she’d be pleased to see you again too.”

Bethany found herself smiling, warmed by the look Isabela was giving her. “I would love to,” she said, and turned to Leandra. “I won’t be out long,” she promised, and quickly followed Isabela outside before mother could raise any arguments as to why she just _had_ to stay indoors. Only once they were safely around the corner from the front door did they stop, and look at each other, and burst into laughter.

“Garrett made you promise no such thing,” Bethany scolded.

“Well, maybe not so much a _promise_ , but Hawke did mention that he worried over how alone you’d feel, being left behind and not being allowed out without him here to keep you safe. Close enough, as far as I’m concerned. You _are_ glad to see me, aren’t you?”

“Very pleased,” Bethany assured her. “I hate being hidden away indoors all the time! And having to listen to mother and Uncle Gamlen arguing… especially with it having been so long since Garrett left,” she added, a touch worriedly.

Isabela sniffed dismissively. “He’ll be back,” she said firmly. “They’re clearly just taking their own sweet time about it. Come on, let’s go find Merrill… I’m sure she’s been almost as house-bound as you, though she at least has the option of going out whenever she happens to think of it.”

Bethany smiled, and linked arms with Isabela as they continued on toward the alienage. The streets were busy with people hurrying home from work, or hurrying off to work if they worked evenings; it would be some hours yet until things quietened down enough for the street gangs to be a problem. They reached the alienage to find Merrill outside, frowning thoughtfully at the wizened fruits and vegetables being sold at a stall near the vhenadahl tree; the sort of bruised, wrinkly discards that were left over at the Lowtown market after everything had been picked over a few times. But in a city as packed with the poor as Kirkwall was, even day-old produce, hard bread and moldy cheese found markets, in the alienage and Darktown if nowhere else.

“Shopping for your supper, kitten?” Isabela called out as they approached the elf.

Merrill started, then looked around, her face lighting with a warm smile when she saw the two of them. “No, none of this looks very good to eat,” she told them. “And I ate already. A while ago.”

“How long a while?” Bethany asked, frowning slightly, knowing the elf well enough to know that with her, ‘a while’ could mean anything from a few minutes to the day before.

Merrill shrugged. “I don’t remember,” she confessed. “I’ve been so busy…”

“If you don’t remember, than I suspect it’s past time for you to eat again,” Isabela told her firmly, then smiled. “I know; why don’t you and Bethany both come and have supper with me. My treat!”

Bethany blinked in surprise, then smiled. She didn’t know if Isabela was offering just to be sure that Merrill ate properly for once, or because the pirate herself was feeling lonely and wanted their company, but she was happy to go along with it either way. “That sounds wonderful,” she agreed.

“Oh. Well then… yes?” Merrill said, looking hesitant and a little flustered, as if she wasn’t quite sure of the propriety of accepting.

“Excellent!” Isabela said, and took Merrill by the arm as well, steering both of them back the way she and Bethany had come. To Bethany’s surprise, she didn’t lead them off to the Hanged Man, but instead headed them all towards the docks. “We’ll eat something better than Corff’s mystery meat stew tonight,” she told the pair of them.

“Is the meat really a mystery?” Merrill asked, frowning slightly. “Doesn’t everyone know it’s do…”

“Hush!” Isabela cut her off.

“But the taste, it’s quite distinctive. Herbivores don’t taste the same. Mind you sometimes it’s cat instead…”

“Kitten, you’re quite spoiling my appetite for ever eating at the Hanged Man again,” Isabela told the elf. “I prefer not to think about the possible sources of Corff’s stew meat. Anyway, it could be worse. It could be rat.”

“True,” the elf agreed, looking thoughtful. “Or nug. I don’t know how dwarves can eat those. Though I suppose when the alternative is deep stalker, even nug seems good in comparison.”

Bethany kept quiet, feeling a slight roiling of the stomach at the memory of the many times she’d had the stew. Perhaps Isabela had the right idea; just don’t think about it. It was food, it was cheap, and it was still a lot better than what a lot of people in Lowtown and especially Darktown could afford.

Isabela led them to a place she knew down by the docks; it was small, it was dark, and there was a distinct odour of unwashed bodies about the place, but the food they served up smelled surprisingly good. The three of them crammed around a small table in one corner, Merrill taking the corner seat with Bethany and Isabela to either side of her. Isabela seemed to be well-known here; they were left largely alone, apart from a few leering looks and catcalls. A harassed-looking woman approached their table, and smiled welcomingly at Isabela, who quickly ordered for all three of them, the woman nodding repeatedly, her face screwed up in concentration as she memorized the order before vanishing back into the crowd.

Merrill was looking around the room with a fascinated expression on her face, seemingly quite taken by this chance to observe the sailors and dock workers up close. “Look! That man has vallaslin, but they’re not on his face!” she exclaimed to Isabela.

“They’re not vallaslin, sweetness, they’re just tattoos,” Isabela explained. “A lot of sailors have them.”

“Oh! You’re a sailor, aren’t you – does that mean you have one too?”

“I have several,” Isabela assured her.

Merrill looked delighted. “May I see it?”

“Well, there’s only one I can show off in polite company,” Isabela said, and shifted her weight to one side, craning around to pull up the shawl draped around her hips, exposing her right thigh to their view. A pattern of suckered tentacles was visible, rising out of her boots and disappearing up under her shawl and tunic. “I can’t show you the whole thing, since it runs from just above my knee to my waist, but it’s a kraken about to coil its tentacles around a ship,” Isabela explained as the elf bent down, cooing in appreciation over the line-work.

“It’s very nicely done,” Merrill said approvingly. “Can I see the rest some time?”

Isabela laughed. “Perhaps, if you ask nicely enough.” Then, as Merrill frowned, she patted her hand. “That’s a _yes_ , kitten. Ask me next time we’re somewhere private enough, and I’ll let you see them all.”

Merrill smiled happily. Bethany smiled as well, amused.

The waitress reappeared out of the crowd, setting a large platter down on the table and accepting coin from Isabela to pay for the meal. There were four baskets on the platter, each filled with different things; fried strips of root vegetables, battered and fried chunks of some firm-fleshed white fish, crumb-coated fried shrimp almost as long as her hand, and in the fourth and largest basket, a nest of steaming hot seaweed covering a large quantity of assorted steamed shellfish. Oysters and clams, mostly, with a few mussels and, perched on top of it all, a boiled crab large enough to have filled both hands, bright red from cooking. There were several bowls of condiments to dip things in, from sour malt vinegar to melted butter with garlic.

It was the sort of meal to eat with one’s fingers, and thankfully there’d also been a stack of clean cloth napkins supplied along with the meal, which they used to keep any drips off their clothes and to wipe their fingers and faces clean as needed. It was a very enjoyable meal, the food fresh and delicious. And a fun meal, too, watching Merrill’s expressions as she tried foods she hadn’t ever encountered. She’d had fish and shellfish before, she told them, the freshwater varieties anyway, but not these saltwater cousins, and she’d never had shrimp, or tried anything like the crab. The shrimp, she said, reminded her of the crayfish she’d sometimes seen in streams and lakes, and she wondered if they were similarly edible.

“They’re probably more like a small lobster,” Isabela judged, and then had to explain what a lobster was to the fascinated elf, which ended with Isabela calling over a sailor she knew who was eating one of the large crustaceans. His arms were covered in tattoos, which Merrill found even more intriguing than the lobster, and he ended up taking the fourth seat at their table for a while, bantering with Isabela while Merrill studied his tattoos and asked what they all meant.

They were all in a very good mood when they finally finished their meal, bade their temporary dining companion good night, and headed back to Lowtown. Only once they were outside did Bethany realize just how much time they’d spent in the little tavern; it was much later than she’d planned to stay out. Well after dark, and verging on the dangerous time of night. The three of them fell silent, walking quickly and close together, their eyes watching the shadows as they hurried back toward Lowtown.

It would actually have been safer to remain at the docks, Bethany later realized; there were a number of places that remained open around the clock to serve the sailors and dockworkers, and even in the middle of the night there were always people around. But as they moved away from the waterfront, the streets quickly emptied, then grew quiet, and then ominously silent.

“We’re being followed,” Isabela murmured quietly, head held high and eyes darting around. She didn’t stop moving, but she looked worried, her brow slightly furrowed.

“How many? Where?” Bethany asked.

“Too many, and mostly along the rooftops to our left and a bit behind. Turn right when I say, and _run_ … there’s a place I know where we might be able to shake them off.” They continued on past two more side streets, then suddenly Isabela dodged right toward a narrow alley-way. “ _Now_.”

They fled, Bethany and Merrill following close on her heels, plunging into a darkened warren of narrow passages; like a maze, and one Isabela apparently knew her way through. They heard curses and sounds of pursuit from behind them, though the width of the main street here meant they had a lead on their roof-top followers, who had to either descend to follow at ground level, or find a place where the street narrowed enough to cross. The buildings here on the side-streets leaned together overhead, touching or almost-touching in many places, making it difficult to impossible for their rooftop followers to track their passage. In one almost completely covered stretch Isabela suddenly moved sideways, removing her knives from her back before squeezing into a space between two buildings that was too narrow to even qualify as an alley; a mere gap, so narrow they had to pass through it turned side-on, and too poorly lit to make out more than slightly varying shades of darkness. Isabela hissed a curse as they moved along it, the space so narrow that her breasts and back were of necessity rubbing along the rough-surfaced walls to either side. Bethany was glad that she herself wasn’t as well-endowed; she only brushed against the wall a little, while Merrill had little problem at all fitting through.

“Wait,” Isabela said quietly after a brief time of sideways progress, coming to a stop. There was a metallic sound, more muttered curses, and then suddenly a faint scrape of wood on stone, a slightly darker space appearing in front of where the pirate was; a door, one that must have been in use before the neighbouring building had taken over what in times past was an open space of some kind. “Inside,” Isabela told them, the direction of her voice making it clear she’d already moved in herself.

Bethany and Merrill quickly followed her into the room, both of them stopping just inside the door. It was pitch black inside, so dark that even the closing of the door behind them made no difference in the quality of the darkness.

“We’re safe now,” Isabela said in a normal tone of voice. “Either of you feel like providing a little light?”

Bethany laughed nervously as she and Merrill both summoned light at the same time; Merrill in the form of a green-glowing spell wisp that circled overhead, and Bethany summoning flame to her hand. They both looked around, curious to see where Isabela had led them.

It was a large stone-walled room. The only door into it was the one they’d come through, one leaf of what had once been a doorway large enough to bring a waggon through, which puzzled Bethany until she spotted a large trap door set in the floor farthest from the door, locked shut with a rusting metal hasp and lock. Some sort of delivery entrance, once upon a time; where the building next door stood must have once been some kind of yard, or even a back street, and this a way to bring things in to the cellars of the building they were in. With the trap door locked and the outer door built over, this space had been forgotten.

“How did you ever find this place?” Bethany asked wonderingly, looking around at the room, bigger even than Gamlen’s hovel.

Isabela shrugged as she walked over to a stack of boxes and began rummaging through them. “Much the same way we just arrived here; a chase and a certain amount of desperation. And luck. That gap narrows, and not much beyond the door it gets too thin for me to pass through. I was working my way back out again and hoping I still had time to get away when I realized the wall behind me wasn’t a wall at all. Let me tell you, I don’t recommend trying to pick locks behind your back, but there was certainly no way I could turn around.” She found what she was looking for – a cloth-wrapped bundle of thick pillar candles, their black-lettered red wax making it clear they’d been intended for a chantry, not for here – and handed them to Merrill, who pragmatically lit a couple of them from Bethany’s flaming hand and found places to set them down, joining piles of other melted candle-ends that made it clear this place had been lit this way before. Bethany let her flame die out, and joined Merrill in lighting the space.

Bethany found herself grinning as she looked around in better light. “This place looks a proper pirate’s den,” she observed, admiring the colourful swags of richly dyed and printed cloth draping the walls, the stack of beautifully woven carpets and cushions to one side, along with a mound of neatly folded quilted comforters. There were piles of containers stacked along the opposite wall, mostly bags and small boxes, some bottles of assorted sizes, and a few small wooden kegs of the sort used for either very expensive liquors or small amounts of spices.

Isabela grinned as well. “Well, I _am_ a proper pirate, after all. And this makes a very good hideout, when I need one, as well as a useful place to stash anything that’s small enough that I can get it into here. Even if someone else found the gap, and the door, they’d have to defeat my lock, and I’ve put a very good one on the door since first finding it; one that’s hard even for _me_ to pick.”

“Why not just use a key then?” Merrill asked, sounding puzzled.

“Because it’s more fun this way, kitten,” Isabela told her, then stretched. “Well, I think we’ll be having to spend the night here. They’ll give up the search for us eventually, but better to wait for morning before trying to continue on home.”

“Mother is going to worry,” Bethany said, biting her lip.

Isabela shrugged. “So she’ll worry. And then be angry when you show up safe tomorrow after all. Better than you not turning up at all.”

“True,” Bethany reluctantly agreed.

Isabela smiled. “Anyway, we might as well make ourselves comfortable,” she said, and gestured at the carpets and cushions and comforters, then wiggled her eyebrows at Bethany. “Remind me to mention to Garrett when he gets back how I had you and Merrill both in my bed while he was gone,” she said.

Bethany smiled. “He’ll hate that,” she said.

Isabela grinned. “That would be the point. Your brother wants being taken down a peg or two, my dear. He’s far too sure of himself.”

Bethany laughed, and joined her friends in making a comfortable place to rest for the night. She didn’t say anything, but inside… inside, she agreed with Isabela’s assessment of her brother.

“Is this private enough that I can see the rest of your tattoos now?” Merrill asked hopefully.

* * *


	2. Dirty Books

The stone-walled room was warmly lit with candle light, glowing with colour from the lengths of brightly-dyed cloth hanging on the walls. Bethany curled up against the pile of cushions, watching in amusement as Merrill took down a swath of it with Isabela’s help, and draped it around herself. “What do you think?” the elf asked, eyes bright with amusement. “It could be a dress.”

“It would make a lovely dress,” Bethany said, a touch enviously. It would be; the fabric was dyed in a patterns of mossy greens that were almost the exact shade of Merrill’s eyes, one end of the fabric somehow printed in an ornate motif with what appeared to be gold leaf.

“I’ll tell you two a secret,” Isabela said, grinning mischievously. “This already is a dress.”

“Really?” Merrill asked, surprised, and looked down at herself, holding her arms wide to spread out the lovely silken fabric. “But it doesn’t look like a dress at all.”

“I’ll show you,” Isabela said, and peeled out of her tunic and boots. She took the scarf that she normally wore around her waist, and quickly retied it halter-fashion around herself, then took a second length of cloth down from the walls, one patterned in blues with touches of white and green. Bethany blushed, taking in her friend’s lush figure as she changed, while Merrill merely watched with interest.

Isabela tucked one end of the cloth into her waistband on her right hip, then wrapped it across her front and behind her back and around to the front again, before gathering it in several large soft pleats against her belly. She tucked in the pleats and the fabric all the way around, then ran the remaining loose length of fabric around behind her again. When she brought it back around to the front, she draped the gold-printed end up across her halter to hang down over her left shoulder. “You see?” she said, smiling widely at the two of them, and turning around to show it off. “It’s from the far north; they wear clothing like this in the Donarks. Maker only knows how it found its way here; I took it off a gang of Tevinter slavers who didn’t have any further use for earthly possessions.”

Merrill clapped her hands delightedly. “It’s _beautiful_ ,” she exclaimed. “Can I try it?”

“Can I try too?” Bethany asked, and Isabela smiled warmly at her.

“Of course you may,” she said, and gestured at the fabric-bedecked walls around them. “Pick out a length you like while I help Merrill.”

Merrill was already stripping off her outfit, and Bethany hurriedly turned away to examine the lengths of fabric and try to decide which one she liked the most, feeling torn between a length of deep ruby red, and a second one patterned in dark blue. She turned to ask the others their opinion, and smiled to see the look of delight on Merrill’s face as Isabela wrapped the green and gold dress for her, the elf using the scarf she usually had draped around her neck as a bandana-style breastband. That made Bethany frown in thought; her own scarf was too small to be used to cover her top, being little larger than a handkerchief in size.

“Picked one out yet, Bethany?” Isabela asked, looking up from tucking in the waist of Merrill’s outfit.

“I can’t decide between the blue, or the red,” Bethany said, gesturing at each.

“You’d look lovely in either,” Merrill said.

“Red is the Amell colour, isn’t it?” Isabela asked. “Though blue would co-ordinate better with what Merrill and I are wearing. But the red would also be a pleasant contrast.”

Bethany laughed. “You see my problem?” she said, and looked thoughtfully back and forth between the two lengths of fabric, until Isabela and Merrill came up on either side of her. She looked back and forth between their outfits and sighed longingly, then looked at the fabric again, and smiled, reaching out to finger one length of it. “The blue, to co-ordinate with my two friends,” she said, then frowned, remembering her earlier worry. “But what can I use as a top?”

“We’ll improvise, of course,” Isabela said, and pulled off the kerchief holding her hair back, shaking it out and refolding it. It was just long enough to be used as a breastband by Bethany, and with Isabela’s help she was soon wearing a dress of wrapped and draped fabric as well.

“We all look wonderful!” Merrill exclaimed, looking delighted again. “Like royalty!”

“Barbarian royalty,” Isabela agreed, reaching up to touch the heavy gold jewellery around her neck.

“All we’re missing is a royal feast and some handsome servants to wait on us hand and foot,” Bethany said, smiling in amusement.

“I’m fresh out of handsome young men, unfortunately, but I might be able to turn up some acceptable snacks and beverages,” Isabela said, and went digging among the containers stacked along one wall. “No sense in having a secret hideout that doesn’t contain at least a few days worth of emergency food and drink,” she added smugly.

They ended up lying down on the carpets and pillows again, Isabela’s selections piled up on a large hammered brass tray between them. It was mostly things that could keep well for long periods of time, such as dried fruits and hard biscuits, as well as a small number of delicious treats, like hard candies made of sugar from the far north, and cookies made with spices and honey that Isabela said could keep for several years in their well-sealed tins. There was wine, too, a sweet straw-coloured wine that they drank out of a set of delicate blown glass goblets.

“Why haven’t we ever done this before?” Bethany asked.

“What, been chased by thugs and have to hide out overnight in the bowels of an old factory?” Isabela asked, one eyebrow arching high as she smiled in amusement.

Merrill and Bethany both laughed. “No, I mean… just spend some time together, enjoying ourselves?” Bethany asked. “Dressing up and sitting around and just enjoying each other’s company.”

Isabela laughed, and rolled over on her back “I’ve invited you to join Merrill and I countless times before; you almost always said no. Too busy helping your brother raise money for his expedition.”

“It was supposed to be _our_ expedition, not his,” Bethany pointed out a touch sourly.

“I thought it was Varric and Bartrand’s expedition?” Merrill asked.

“It is, kitten, but it’s Hawke’s too, since he helped pay for it. As did Bethany.”

“And got left behind anyway, despite all my help. But let’s not talk of Garrett. Or any of the rest of them.”

“Not even Varric? I like Varric,” Merrill said.

“Everyone likes Varric. All right, we can talk about Varric,” Bethany agreed. “What did you want to say about him?”

Merrill smiled and shrugged. “Just that I like him, I suppose. And the way he’s always writing notes to himself. He must be very forgetful.”

Isabela laughed. “He’s not forgetful,” she told Merrill. “He’s taking notes for his stories.”

“His stories?” Merrill looked puzzled.

Bethany looked at the elf with some surprise. “You haven’t seen any of his books?”

Isabela snorted. “Of course she hasn’t, can you imagine Varric ever showing them to her?”

Bethany frowned. “No, I suppose not.”

“But you’ve seen them?” Merrill asked, looking troubled. “Both of you? But he never showed them to me? Why not?”

“Garrett has a lot of them, so I read them too,” Bethany said. “They’re… um… a little racy.”

“Oh,” Merrill said. “Racy… you mean they’re about sex, yes?”

“Yes,” Isabela agreed. “They’re about sex.”

“Then why wouldn’t Varric show them to me? I know about _sex_ ,” Merrill said, and laughed. “Or does he think I’m a total innocent?”

Bethany bit her lip. Isabela laughed. Merrill looked surprised. “He does? But _why!?_ ”

“Because you get so little of my innuendo and so few of his jokes, kitten,” Isabela told her gently.

Merrill snorted. “Foolish man. Just because I’m unfamiliar with shemlen and durgen’len idiom doesn’t mean I’m _ignorant_. I’m trained as a Keeper’s First!”

It was Isabela’s turn to look surprised. “And that makes you knowledgeable about sex?”

“Of course it does. A Keeper’s duties include all aspects of the health and well-being of their clan, including the health of their relationships. I may have been too busy learning to actually take part in much sex myself, but I know a lot about it.”

Isabela grinned. “Then in that case, maybe you _should_ read some of Varric’s books too,” she said, and rose to her feet, dusting her hands of crumbs and crossing back over to dig through boxes again, returning in a few minutes with a small stack of books. “No secret hideaway is complete without something to wile away the hours,” she said, setting them down. “Bethany, find one you particularly like, and I’ll do the same, and we can take turns reading Merrill all our favourite bits.”

Bethany laughed, and started sorting through the pile. For an evening that had started so poorly, this was, she decided, rapidly turning into her favourite night ever. She just wished it would never end. But she knew that it, like all good things, couldn’t last forever; morning would come eventually, and a return to her normal life of being a reclusive apostate in Lowtown.

She’d enjoy tonight while it lasted though, she decided, storing up good memories against the lean times ahead.


End file.
